Turtle with a Guitar
by mostlypsychotic
Summary: Michelle Sandliey was just a 17-year-old with too much time on her hands. But when she responds to an ad in a coffee shop that turns her into a guitarist for a hopeless band, how will fame treat the unexperienced?
1. Advertised Talent

_Author's Note: Man, it feels good to re-write and improve stories. Re-reading this made me cringe in real life, so here we go with Turtle With A Guitar, Version 2.0! And, if you happen to be reading this right now...it wouldn't hurt to go check out the sequel I'm working on. (is shot for shameless self-advertising.) _

When I arrived at the home of my new band, I couldn't help but be a little disappointed.

I hadn't expected much of the house, judging by the clumsy, scrawled advertisement I had found in the local coffee shop. Still, I had expected it to be a little louder, at least. In reality, the only sounds were the falling rain and the occasional rumble of thunder in the distance. As I stood there, the guitar case digging into my back and the downpour causing me to shiver, I was suddenly hit with a wave of uncertainty. I had picked up the advertisement out of curiosity, the thought of doing something other than lounging around appealing to me.

_Though I'm not too good at guitar..._ I had thought that night, as I looked between the paper and the instrument I kept in a corner of my room.

Either way, somehow, I ended up here two weeks later, uninvited by the band themselves. They had forgotten to put the ever-vital phone number on their advertisement, with an address replacing it, so I had judged by that.

When a sharp crack of thunder snapped me out of my mini-flashback, I decided that I should brace myself and head inside if I didn't want to put myself at risk for being struck by lightning. I walked up the sidewalk, guitar case slapping against me, and knocked on the door. It didn't take long for there to be a response, and I suddenly found myself face-to-face with a long-haired giant in leather pants.

"Yes? May I be helping you?" he asked in a thick accent, looking down his nose at what I imagine was a small, trembling teenager.

"Um...y-yes...my name's Michelle Sandliey. I'm here about your ad..." I trailed off, feeling myself blush as I spoke.

"Oh. You think you can be playing the guitar for our band?" the giant asked with a leer. I shrank back a few steps, contemplating running for my life. However, I was 'rescued' in the next moment.

"Hey, Lars! Who's out there?" A younger brunette had stepped into the doorway now and eyed me skeptically. "Who are you?"

"She is saying she is here about our advertisement," the giant replied before I could open my mouth.

"What, her? Fine, let her in."

A moment later, I was seated in a sagging bean bag chair, my guitar case in the opposite corner. Lars had almost immediately fallen asleep on the couch, and the brunette was facing me from a chair that looked a lot more comfortable.

"I'm Axel, by the way," he began. "You think you're cut out for this kind of thing, Minnie?"

"It's Michelle, and I only came here because-"

"Being in a band is important, you know. You don't get to live the wild life by slacking off all the time," Axel lectured. I decided it would be best not to point out the irony, considering the state of the house and the entire slacker-vibe I got from the place. Instead, I nodded.

"And you _really _think you can handle it?" Axel asked, not even bothering to hide the fact that he didn't think so. I bit back a sarcastic remark, worrying that it would cause me to lose my cool.

"I think so."

"Hm. Maria, how old are you?"

"My name is Michelle. And I'm 17," I replied coldly, despite myself.

"Ah. Well-"

"_Enough_!" Lars snapped suddenly, rising from the couch where he had been lounging. "Axel, if you are just going to be rejecting the offer, why are you even doing this?"

"Hey, I never said I was gonna reject her!" Axel argued.

"If you were not, you would be testing her skills, not continuing on with the pointless talk! I was knowing from the start that you would be rejecting her because she is a scrawny, inexperienced child!"

I stood up now. "Scrawny? You're getting rid of me because I'm _scrawny_? That's a little uncalled for, don't you think?"

"I wasn't going to turn you down because you're scrawny, I'm going to turn you down because it's obvious you wouldn't survive a week on tour!"

"Yes, because it's completely obvious _you _guys have had a load of tour experience!" I objected, my polite front completely vanquished by the insults being hurled at me. Before Axel could reply, the bang of a door brought our argument to a halt. In the doorway to the basement, there was a silhouette leaning against the doorframe.

"Is that the new guitarist?" he asked, stepping around Lars to have a look at me. Keeping my eyes on the ground, I attempted to make a dash for my guitar and then the door.

"No, I was just leaving," I grumbled. Axel nodded in agreement, but the newest arrival blocked off my exit. Now I looked up to find myself face-to-face with a taller, blond guy.

"Let me see," he said, observing me for a moment. "I see you've met the rest of the band. Axel Steel, our bassist, and Lars Umlaut, the drummer. Me, I'm Izzy Sparks. " I nodded, my situation unclear now. "You wanted to be our guitarist?" Axel shot him a pleading look, but Izzy glared back at him.

"Um...I don't really know..." I began, blushing at how stupid I sounded.

"Let's try again. Forget what they just said to you. When you walked up to this house, did you want to be in the band?" Now I nodded, and Izzy grinned.

"Great. In that case, you're getting your chance. You're not permanent yet, but why not?"

Axel's jaw dropped. Lars shrugged and wandered away into the next room.

"Thanks," I choked, amazed at this turn of events.

_But...what did I just walk into? _


	2. Into the Cave

"Hey, stupid! Get your damn act together! Don't think I won't replace you!"

My eye twitched as I glared down at my guitar. Four practices since that rainy night, and our little band hadn't improved at all. Each session had gone the same way- about ten minutes of actual progress before Axel started screaming at me, Lars put a hole through a drum, and Izzy retreated to his hideout in the basement. He probably had the right idea- as far as I could tell, this band was a hopeless case. I bit my tongue and looked up at the bassist, trying to keep my expression as calm as ever.

"Sorry, Axel. But, what'd I do this time?" I asked innocently, hoping to get on his good side. Obviously, it didn't work.

"That group of chords before the second chorus! Stop messing them up!" I sighed, fully aware that I had been getting them right.

_Buddy, you're just complaining to complain now, aren't you? _I thought irritably.

"I thought-"

"Well, you thought wrong! It'll make us sound like crap onstage, so stop screwing around! And-" Here, he paused to throw an empty beer can at Lars, who had fallen asleep, "_Wake up_!"

Lars rose to his feet immediately, his sudden height intimidating, and began shouting in Norwegian at the man who had ruined his nap. As the two bickered, I took the opportunity to escape from Axel's clutches and headed for the hopefully safe haven of the basement.

Peering around the corner, I noticed that the basement was much nicer than the rest of the house, as if it was an entirely different place altogether. It was dark as well, but the smell from upstairs was gone, and it wasn't littered with empty food wrappers. The only light came from the dim videogame menu on the television, and a few cans sat on the floor next to the controller. Izzy was nowhere to be seen, and part of me wondered if I should call out to him. However, curiosity got the better of me, and I began to dig around the room, looking through the shelves. An old necklace, a masquerade mask, various magazines and so on were scattered in drawers and on a desk in the corner, though none of it was particularly unexpected. After finding a copy of Playboy and dropping it back in its hiding spot with a blush, my eyes strayed to a small fridge in the corner, and it became my next searching place. To my surprise, when I looked inside, I found a few cans of peach tea in the back. With a grin, I grabbed one, looking at the expiration date before deciding it would be okay. I cracked open the can and began to guzzle it, enjoying the taste for a while.

"Oh, so you like that stuff?" The unexpected voice from behind me caught me by surprise, causing me to sputter as I turned around and found myself face-to-face with Izzy himself.

"I'm sorry!" I yelped. "I know it's yours, b-but-"

"Hey, it's cool. It's not mine, anyway. Too sweet for my taste, but my ex loved it. What's going on up there?" He fell back on the couch, and I joined him, watching as the videogame came to life.

"Uh...I'm hiding," I admitted bashfully. "The others are being...idiots."

"No surprise there," Izzy chuckled. I couldn't help but be a little relieved at his attitude- it was easier to handle than the harsher ones of his bandmates. There was silence for a while, as he played his game and I drank, until I decided to get his attention again.

"Um...why do you always stay down here?" I stammered. The pause screen lit up the television again as the singer looked over at me.

"Same reason as you had when you came down here," he explained. "What you're seeing is a normal practice for us, and it's not helping at all. We haven't gotten a gig in months, our old guitarist left, and we're pretty much at a dead-end. And those two think that if nothing's happening, there's no point in doing anything besides fooling around."

"Did you give up?" I asked.

"I wouldn't call it _that_, but...yeah, pretty much. I kinda lost hope after we lost our guitarist, and we don't even have a name anymore. Axel was the one who posted the ad- he's the only one who still considers us a 'band,' really. We all live here, though, so I pretty much stay down here most of the time. It's my 'territory,' and they know it." Noticing my suddenly uncomfortable expression at that last comment, he went on. "You can stay down here, though. You're not obnoxious, as far as I can tell."

"...Thanks," I mumbled, not sure if it was a compliment but treating it that way.

"No problem. Now it's my turn," Izzy announced, grinning at me.

"Your turn?" I echoed, confused.

"Yep. I get a question, too. Why'd you come here in the first place?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Because you put up an adver-"

"No, no. You didn't _have _to answer it, so why did you? Trickery? Boredom? Did you think it was a good idea?"

Now I went silent. My motives for joining...they were personal, despite what I had gotten them to believe. I wanted to tell him, but it wouldn't make sense to, honestly.

"Well...part of it was boredom, I'll admit..." I began, trailing off. I couldn't. I couldn't tell him that all I wanted was to feel like my life was going somewhere, to stop feeling so insecure. My parents had been going through a divorce for a while, and my father had the tendency to take it out on me. Sure, he wanted custody of my brothers and sister, but that was as much as he wanted to do with my family. Ever since I was little, he hadn't made a secret out of letting me know that he considers me worthless, that my life won't go anywhere just because I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life, even at 17. He had turned me into an insecure mess, and if he had my siblings...

"Michelle? Hey, I'm sorry...you don't have to tell me if it's hard on you," Izzy said nervously. I suddenly became aware of the fact that I was both trembling and crying a little, my iced tea almost slipping from my hands.

"I'm really sorry," I whimpered, trying to dry the tears, though it just made them increase. "I-I'm not supposed to..."

"Forget I brought it up, okay?" Izzy said hopefully, probably trying to stop me from having a full-out breakdown. As I wiped my now red eyes, I felt him pat me awkwardly on the back, trying to comfort me.

"Yeah," I said once I had regained control. "Sorry about that."

"Really, it's not your fault," Izzy argued, watching as I stood and stretched my arms. "Um...are you still gonna come over next week?"

"Definitely," I replied, heading for the stairs.

_Thank you. _


	3. Family Ties

"Mom! I'm back!" I announced, parading into the house at half-past nine with my guitar case and a sheepish look. My mother, a late worker, had expected me to make dinner for my younger siblings, and I had promised to be home by seven so I could so. Obviously enough, I had gotten caught up with practice. I headed for the kitchen in search of a response, and found my mother working on dishes.

"Welcome back. You're awfully late," she said quietly. I cringed slightly. Instead of yelling, my mom tended to make her voice quieter, resulting in guilt instead of fear.

"I know, I know. I'm really sorry. I got caught up in practice," I explained. Luckily, my mom patted my head condescendingly, a teasing way of putting that she forgave me.

"It's fine. I took them out to eat, so they aren't too upset. How was practice?"

"The same as all the others," I said, rolling my eyes. "The bassist was as hardheaded as ever, the drummer slept through everything, but the singer's really nice. I ended up having a whole conversation with him while I was hiding from the others." Despite the stereotypical 'teenage-relationship-with-parents' thing, I had always felt pretty comfortable telling my mom about things like this, and she expected me to. However, the word 'him' caused her to be a bit more cautious.

"How old is he?" she asked.

"I wouldn't know...I'd say around...twenty-two?" As my mother nodded, I winced, knowing exactly where this was going.

"I see. Well, you know the drill. You aren't eighteen yet, Michelle."

"Mom..." I whined, feeling my face heat up. "We aren't going to do anything, I promise. We're nothing more than-"

"Mimi!" I was interrupted by my three younger siblings running in, shouting their favorite nickname for me.

"You forgot to make us dinner, Mimi," nine-year-old Ben complained.

"But we got to have junk food! Thank you!" ten-year-old Eric chimed in.

"Where _were _you?" seven-year-old Anna finished, clinging tightly to my leg.

"I was practicing with my new band," I explained, smiling. Anna was at the age where everything I did seemed fascinating to her, and she'd listen to my stories with wide, sparkling eyes, even if I was just telling her what I was doing at school or something. As my siblings pulled me from the kitchen and into the next room, it occurred to me that things felt normal for the time being. It probably would change in a couple of days, when my father showed up again with his demands for custody or money. That's how things worked around here these days, but for the time being, I could enjoy myself if I wanted to.

A week later, when I arrived in my band's house, I was greeted by a far-off shouting in Norwegian, followed by an ominous rumbling. Before I could comprehend it, Lars had arrived and was running at me, full-force. Panicking, I leaped back, but it turned out that this running and yelling was for the best.

"Little guitarist girl! I am bringing you very big news!" he roared, a grin on his face. If I hadn't been terrified, I would've noticed that he was genuinely smiling at me for the first time.

"W-what's happening, Lars?" I asked, though it came out as more of a squeak. Lars beamed, a strange expression to see on the usually scary giant's face.

"We have gotten ourselves a performance! Our first in a very long time!" he announced. My heart soared as my eyes widened.

"No way! Really? But...but how? When?" At this point, Axel arrived next to his boisterous drummer, nearly pushing him aside to make room.

"The same way you showed up here. Advertising. Made a few pamphlets, put up a few posters here and there, had Lars ask around and scare people...eventually, we got picked up by a place called Mitch's Bar, and they're willing to let us have a gig if we impress the people there. They needed some live music, either way. Great, right?" As usual, the bassist wasn't smiling, but he seemed pleased enough to make me relax around him for once.

"Of course it's great! Does Izzy know?" As if on cue, Izzy joined his bandmates, grinning.

"Course I do. You're in luck, Michelle- you'll finally get to hear me sing. But this means we need to get our act together and actually practice for once in our lives, so we don't suck. Get your instruments ready."


	4. Welcome to the Jungle

_Author's Note: And back to my very first copyright chapter! (grins) Obviously, I don't own either the lyrics to 'Welcome to the Jungle' or the characters, besides Michelle and her family. I give credit to Guns N' Roses and the creators of Guitar Hero for their respective ownership. _

Just a week later, I was seated behind the stage at Mitch's Bar, groaning as my guitar refused to tune correctly. I was alone, somehow- Lars had wandered off in search of some food, Axel had wanted to discuss payment beforehand, and Izzy remained missing for the time being. I dared myself to look out at our soon-to-be audience, but the moment I did so, my heart almost stopped. The place was packed with people, whether they were laughing drunkenly, throwing things or just enjoying a night at a bar as they usually would. How would they know that their less-than-innocent fun was the reason for my terror? I gripped the wall, trying to stop myself from trembling too much.

_It'll be okay, Michelle, _I told myself, trying to convince my brain to be optimistic. _You've performed before, right? For school and stuff, and that was in front of the most judgmental group on the planet. If you can perform for teenagers, you can perform for these guys, and it'll be just the same. _

My method of calming was interrupted by Axel practically materializing beside me, grabbing his bass off of the floor. I jumped, surprised at his sudden arrival.

"Oh, kid," he said with his regular bored tone. "Ready to get going?" He paused, looking across the room. "Where are they?"

"Um..." I cringed, knowing that he wouldn't be happy with my response. "Lars said...something about food-"

"_What_?" Sure enough, Axel had immediately been furious. "I told him to eat _after _we play!" Before he could start completely flipping out, Izzy arrived on the scene, dragging Lars with him. The drummer seemed to ignore Axel's glaring, as he licked his lips and smiled slightly.

"The food here is of a very nice quality. Michelle, Axel, have you been trying the-"

"Do you _really _think now is the best time?" Axel roared, furious. Before Lars could respond, no doubt with a string of foreign curses, I jabbed my thumb in the general direction of the stage.

"Guys...now really isn't the best time, wouldn't you say?" I offered timidly. Izzy nodded in agreement, suddenly enthusiastic.

"She's right. Come on! Let's show these guys that we've still got it!" he said, storming out to greet the crowd and leaving the rest of us to hurry behind him.

The stage on Mitch's Bar was a blur. I was immediately hit with a wave of bright, colorful lights, weird smells, and loud cheers from our audience. To top it all off, there were leather-clad caged dancers on the side of the stage, waving out at the crowd as they swayed their hips.

"Ready for some music?" Izzy shouted into the microphone, inducing a second round of cheers. I rolled my eyes, expecting something a bit more creative from our flashy frontman, but lifted up my guitar and broke into the first riff of our song, the notes echoing across the room. The intro was a miniature solo, but soon enough, the rest of the band joined in, with Izzy breaking into the song last.

"_Welcome to the jungle,_

_We've got fun and games,_

_We've got everything you want- we know the names_

_We are the people who can find, whatever you may need,_

_If you've got the money, honey, we've got your disease!_"

The noise was quickly growing around me, causing my nervous energy to flow out into my playing. Grinning at the pleased audience, I felt my shoulders relaxing, and I even showed off a little, despite myself. I hadn't expected to have this much fun, and now that I was, I could tell that things would get better, and I loved it.

"Come on, kid! Just one drink, my treat!"

"No!" I argued. "I told you, I'm a minor! I- _hey_! Who poured that on my head?"

Our performance had ended, and we had immediately been let out to join the crowd for drinks. The caged dancers had let themselves out, too, and were all over the four of us, giggling.

"She's so cute! Look at that soft face!"

"Oh, I want to try!"

I squirmed uncomfortably, looking at my bandmates through the mass of leather and bare skin. They seemed to take no notice of me, already wasted and enjoying the company of the girls. Even Axel had loosened up a little bit, surprisingly enough. Despite it, I couldn't help but feel excited. Our first gig had been successful, and I knew that soon enough, we'd be going places.


	5. Shell Plate

_Author's Note: And back to where I named the band. If I was actually writing the first version now, I'd probably have a different name, but this is too sentimental for me to actually change major details like that, so I'm gonna keep it this way. Enjoy!_

I snickered, looking at the tabloid Lars had tossed me. It was a low-key name- not something people would read if they had the choice, but it beat being completely ignored.

"Nameless band rocks Mitch's Bar! Lead singer enjoys hot fling!" I read aloud, biting back laughter as I pointed to the picture on the page. Izzy had ended up with a number of dancers on his lap, and apparently it was a big deal.

"Give me that," Izzy said, grabbing the tabloid from my hands and tossing it aside. "Guys, we kicked ass and all, but we still need to get it together." Axel blinked, as if he wasn't used to Izzy's serious side. In fact, it wouldn't surprise me if he wasn't. "It should only be a matter of time before someone big hears about us," Izzy continued, "and we don't even have a name. What the hell is our name?"

Lars immediately shouted out something in Norwegian that I could barely understand, though he seemed eager about his suggestion. Izzy gave him a look, and the drummer glared sullenly back before going to retrieve his tabloid.

"I honestly don't remember what we used to be," Axel said with a shrug. "Maybe it's better off, so we can start fresh or something like that."

I remained silent, searching my mind for something interesting.

"You know, I think I remember something," Izzy said suddenly. "Back when we were naming the first band, I had an idea that I kinda forgot about. It'd be kinda cool to use it. How about 'Shell Plate?'"

Axel snorted disbelievingly. It was my turn to shrug. Lars looked up from his tabloid.

"It's...not bad," I offered. Izzy nodded, assuming this meant a yes.

"Lars?"

"...I am not seeing why not," he mumbled. Axel rolled his eyes.

"Okay, fine," he said. "If I think of something cooler in time, we're changing it, got it?"

It was under those strained circumstances that we became Shell Plate. And that's when my life took it's biggest turn yet.

It only took us two more weeks to find our second gig. By my admittedly low standards, that was a good thing. I had showed up after school to find Izzy waiting for me, waving a pamphlet in the air.

"Michelle, there you are," he said as I dropped my bag on the floor. "We're getting 'discovered.'" Noticing my blank stare, he handed me the paper, allowing me to take in the words.

"Live rock Wednesday at the Rat Cellar. Now featuring Shell Plate," I read aloud. "Wait, what?" On the bottom of the pamphlet, four dates and times indicated when our performance would start. "Nice...what are we playing?" Izzy's face fell suddenly, a complete change in heart from before.

"Yeah, that's the thing...they want us to play tributes based on the audience's preferences. We could end up getting stuff we've never heard of, on short notice," he complained. He had a point, after all- we could end up seriously screwing up if we weren't prepared, and it could cost us our chance at progressing. The nervous flush immediately crept up my cheeks, and I searched my brain for a way to stop it.

"Well," I offered after a moment, "I guess all we can do is work with it. We'll need to get Lars and Axel into the program, though. They need to take things seriously." Izzy's mood brightened again, causing me to relax.

"You're right! And if they don't, I'll shove their instruments so far up their-"

"We'll be fine," I interrupted, without the slightest interest in learning where exactly the instruments would go. Izzy nodded.

"I could use your help, though. You should try and rough them up every now and then. Gotta be tough in _this _world," he said. I nodded, rolling my eyes.

_Gotta love a rocker's advice. _

I couldn't believe I had thought Mitch's Bar was bad. I stood onstage at the Rat Cellar, watching bottles fly across the room and trying to ignore the sexual remarks and wolf whistles coming from the back corner. Izzy, noticing my discomfort, stepped forward to tease the group in return, which resulted in both laughter and boos. I looked up from my guitar gratefully, the tension a little bit relieved, before the four of us broke into our first tribute, one to Black Sabbath. It had been the only song on the entire setlist that I had been allowed to pick, since Axel obviously hadn't loosened up yet, but it was worth it. As the setlist progressed, the crowd got louder and my head lighter. I suddenly got the feeling that this night would be where I changed. Izzy was right about one thing- I needed to get it together to survive in this world, no matter how good the performance seemed to be. There was _always _room for improvement.

My train of thought was interrupted by the last song ending. The crowd roared with approval, but before we could thank them and leave, the entire place got dark. There was a hush over the room, but only for a moment. To our right, a short woman with pink hair, a revealing outfit, and a devious grin was walking straight towards me, causing the crowd to go wild once again.

I knew her, of course. She was famous, after all, and the boys in my school had a rather perverted standpoint on her. Her name was Judy Nails, and she was here in the flesh.

"You're pretty good for a newbie, kid," she said loudly, as if she was addressing the crowd rather than me. "But do you think you could take me one-on-one? Let's have a battle, shall we?"


	6. Mangled History

That night, I learned that guitar battles were serious business indeed. It came as a shock to me, and that's probably why I lost my first so badly.

Judy and I had taken the stage alone, playing the same song for the surprisingly quiet audience. Was it a popularity contest or something? I glanced left and right, looking for my bandmates in the crowd.

"_Yah_!" Judy shouted suddenly, causing me to jump in place. Before I could figure out what had invoked the battle cry, she had sent a foot into my amp, knocking it over and ruining the sound of my guitar.

"What the hell?" I shouted, watching it spark for a moment before losing its power completely. Judy smirked.

"You've got to do better than that if you wanna beat me, kiddo!" she teased. At last, I noticed Lars by the edge of the stage, watching with anticipation.

"Fight back, Michelle! You must be kicking her ass!" he roared, slamming his fist into the floor of the stage for emphasis. I glanced back at Judy, who was looking me over in search of a second weak point. I lashed out blindly, hoping to have some sort of impact, and ended up snapping one of her strings in the process. Judy looked genuinely surprised for a minute, though she kept playing while searching for a spot to wrap the string around for the time being. Still, she was much quicker to recover than I was, and she soon attacked again, this time grabbing the whammy bar of my guitar and snapping it entirely. I panicked, trying to force it out, but it was completely trapped within the strings. Before I could get myself back together, the song ended, and the crowd began hollering once more.

"Match goes to..._Judy Nails_!" an announcer shouted across the room. The part of me that wasn't completely ashamed about our loss wondered what kind of bar had an actual announcer. Judy turned back to me, searching through a pocket.

"Sorry about the whammy bar, kid. Here," she said, handing me a twenty. "It won't be enough to cover it, but it's the least I can do. Hope you can actually beat me next time!" With those parting words, she hopped off the stage and disappeared into the crowd, cradling her guitar like a child.

"What was that, Michelle? Saddest excuse for a battle I've ever seen," Axel said, though there was a distracted undertone to his insult.

"I...I don't know," I mumbled, humiliated by the loss as well. "I'm really sorry..." Izzy looked out past me, watching the open door that Judy had just exited through with amazement.

"I can't believe it...she's actually back." Beside me, Lars chuckled lightly.

"We have not been seeing her in quite some time, eh?" he said. Now I was just confused. If it had been enough to make Axel trail off and Izzy have that expression, it _had _to be something big.

"Wait, what happened?" I asked. The three turned to me as if they had forgotten I was there. Izzy climbed onstage, looking down at me.

"Just wait until we get back, okay?" he said, disappearing into the back. Axel took my guitar, inspecting the damage as he followed. Lars picked me up and tossed me after them without any effort, before simply walking around the stage and pushing through the crowd. I scrambled to my feet, still hoping for an answer.

When we arrived at the house, all four of us remained silent for a few minutes. Lars immediately returned to his regular spot on the couch, waiting to see who had the task of explaining everything.

"I'll be downstairs," Izzy said quickly. Axel shot him a glare and grabbed his arm, preventing him from weaseling out of it.

"The hell you will. Don't you have some explaining to do?" he asked, jabbing a thumb at me. I had fallen onto the saggy beanbag chair, and was working wordlessly on getting the whammy bar free from the strings.

"She doesn't need to know, Axel. It doesn't concern her," Izzy snapped, trying to escape. Exasperated, Axel let go of the singer's arm abruptly.

"Fine, suit yourself. I'm a more reliable source, anyway," he grumbled, watching Izzy vanish down the stairs and lock the door behind him. Axel turned back to me as if that little exchange had never happened.

"So, kid. Today you met the infamous Judy Nails. Wanna know who she is?"

"I already know who she-"

"No, I have the feeling you don't. Not from our perspective, anyway. She's the reason our band crashed two years ago," he said darkly. "When we started our band, Izzy was dating her. We weren't sure about it two years ago, but she was a kickass guitar player, so we let her join. And it was cool- for a whole six months," he explained. I tried to imagine Izzy and Judy together for a moment. It wasn't all that hard. "But sooner or later," Axel continued, "things went downhill. Izzy caught Judy in bed with Johnny Napalm and ditched her on the spot. That was the day the three of us learned something, kid. The girl isn't too great at taking breakups. Not only did she leave the band, she completely ruined us. She went around with our pictures…our personal pictures, to say the least. She spread rumors. It only took two weeks before our rep was crushed." When Axel finished his story, the room was silent.

"Eh, I never liked that woman, anyway," Lars announced.

"I'm sure you didn't," Axel replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"Is that why…is that why you needed a new guitarist?" I asked.

"Pretty much. We were sick of waiting around for the rumors to blow over. It was just a waste of time," he admitted. "But listen up, Michelle." I blinked. It was the first time Axel had ever called me by my actual name. "Don't follow her example. Don't get caught up in 'band drama.' You'll make things worse, and we'll kick you out. Simple as that."


	7. Smoldering

I squinted, trying to make sense out of the bright lights and the mess of special effects. All I managed to find was a single platform, decorated with spinning wheels that could fit a monster truck.

"So," I began, looking around at the people around me, "anyone want to tell me what the hell is going on?" What looked like a camera crew walked by me, completely ignoring my question, but Axel stopped at my side. He was observing the scene in front of us with some sort of undeserved pride.

"We're making a video, of course. Don't you see the cameras?"

"Yeah, but...this is the plot? What's it even supposed to be?"

"It's just a bunch of random shit thrown together. It adds emphasis, and that's why it's gonna be awesome," Axel explained, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"But-"

"Listen, just get up there and get to work. Pretend it's a regular concert if you want, I don't care. But we've got stuff to do." I glared at him, but grabbed my guitar and climbed up, dodging a wheel. Lars was already up there when I showed up, looking at the lights and sounds.

"What is this, Michelle? It is not making sense to me. Why is there a spacecraft and a prehistoric creature fighting?" he asked, confused.

"I dunno, Lars. Axel said it adds emphasis or something like that. I don't get it either."

"Emphasis? There _is _a difference between adding the emphasis and just being stupid," he responded. I nodded in silent agreement.

"Yeah...but try telling that to-"

"Guys? What's this video supposed to be about exactly?" Izzy asked, tying a feathery headband under his hair as he stood between us. Axel was the last to join us, looking out at the platform as if it was his child.

"It's epic, isn't it?" he said proudly. Izzy gave him a disbelieving look.

"Let's just get filming," he replied, deciding to avoid any arguments by waving at a camera crew. A small crowd had gathered around the end of the platform, interested in the filming or laughing at how ridiculous it was. As Lars began to song with a drum solo, I tried to concentrate on my guitar, blocking out the strobe lights that had randomly started flashing. When my turn to play arrived, I managed to pull it off, but only for a few minutes.

"This is beginning to be annoying!" Lars announced, watching the seventh spaceship zoom over the top of the platform.

"Yeah, seriously. Axel! What were you thinking? I can't even hear myself!" Izzy shouted over a blast of sound effects.

"What?" Axel yelled, also unable to hear. The crowd below us was getting more riled up, probably unaware of the chaos on the actual set. Behind me, there was a loud crackling noise and a puff of smoke that alerted me to the root of the problems. The light next to me had blown a circuit, setting the cuff of my jeans on fire. The moment I felt the heat on my ankle, I dropped my guitar and took off down the platform, screaming and trying to stomp the flames out.

"Michelle!" Izzy shouted from a distance. The music had come to an end, and the crowd was panicking as well. As a last resort, I wriggled out of my jeans, leaping on them and pounding them furiously with my feet until the flames vanished. At last, the lights and sounds had been turned off, leaving the soft snapping noise of the blown fuse the only sound.

"Ah..." Axel said nervously. "That...wasn't planned."

"The hell it wasn't!" Izzy snapped, turning on him.

"Um...Mr. Steel? We did warn you that too many effects _could _cause technical difficulties," a cameraman called from the side of the stage. Another worker had brought me a blanket, wrapping it around my waist. I thanked her quietly, looking down at the remnants of my pants. Half of one leg was completely torched, and it sat there, smoldering. Izzy cautiously walked up to me, as if he was afraid I'd either snap at him or start crying.

"M-Michelle...go sit inside, okay? We'll talk to the guys about this," he said. Relieved at the excuse to escape, I darted away, seeking refuge inside the empty office building. I collapsed onto a cold, hard chair, hugging my arms. Though I wasn't about to cry, there was a numb feeling in my head now, probably from the realization that I had just put my underwear on display for about eighty people. To my left, the door opened, revealing Lars with a can of iced tea.

"Izzy said that you would be liking this if I brought it," he said, handing it to me. I took it immediately and began slurping it down greedily. I heard a chair creak under Lars' weight as he took a seat. "That could not have been feeling good. Was your skin burning?"

"Nah, just my pants. It was kinda scary, though," I replied.

"And you were managing to flash the crowd with your undergarments," he observed, as if it was no big deal. I flushed.

"...It probably would have been better if I hadn't been wearing underwear with cats on it," I mumbled.

"I will never understand the female habit of wearing fancy things that no one will be seeing."

"Yeah, me neither. I guess it's just comfortable." I paused, wondering why exactly I was talking about underwear with _Lars_, of all people. "So, what happened out there?"

"Axel was trying to pass it off as a simple mistake, while Izzy was punching a man of technical abilities in his noise. Then he was giving me money to be buying this drink from the vending machine," Lars explained.

"Oh. He shouldn't have done that. Izzy, I mean. He gets in enough trouble as it is," I said distantly. Lars paused, looking down at me.

"Michelle, are you a good daughter to some woman?"

"Hm?" I looked up from my drink, the topic change catching me off guard once more. "I...guess I'm alright. Isn't everyone someone else's kid?"

"I suppose so, genetically." Here, Lars paused yet again, as if contemplating whether or not he could continue. "My parents were never accepting of my drumming ways. They were certain that I was a nuisance to our neighboring people, and I was certainly a nuisance to them. When I became of age, I left for America, and I was never looking back...it was a very big mistake. If Izzy had not been finding me, I would have ended up on the streets. I was almost being forcibly removed from my townhouse, but Izzy already had the house that we are practicing in, so he offered to make a band with me. He told me that I could stay in the house, so I would always be having somewhere to go."

I was silent, the drummer's story surprising me. Lars may have been tough, but I never would have guessed that he had run away.

"Do you ever miss you parents?" I asked sincerely.

"...It would not be mattering, Michelle. I would not be able to afford visiting them, even if I was wanting to," he said, though I thought I saw a hint of sadness in his face. "And to be honest...I do not know whether or not they are still living. Do not be making the same mistake, Michelle. Leaving home without the means to support yourself...it's very wrong." After a moment, he stood. "I will be going back to Izzy and Axel now. I want to be making sure we are leaving here soon." Before he left, he clapped a heavy hand on my head in some sort of kind gesture.

"You are a good child, Michelle. I was never expecting you to make it this far, as a mere child, and yet you have been managing. A good child."


	8. Imported from Japan

I couldn't even bother hiding it this time- I was completely terrified. The room was dark, the floor was cold, and I was face to face with a couple hundred criminals. Apparently, even in the isolated, high security prison of Shanker's Island, they heard of new music groups, and they wanted some live entertainment to cheer themselves up with. It wasn't like I had a choice- it was this or a spot on an infamous talk show, and Axel already knew which one he preferred.

"Michelle, will you calm down? They're not gonna hurt you. See? The guards have everything under control," the bassist in question said unconvincingly. At the front of the crowd, a few shouts were audible.

"Yeah, we won't hurt ya!"

"Not unless you suck!"

"Hurry the hell up!"

"Will you guys be shutting your mouths and listening now?" Lars roared, seemingly unaffected by the prospect of performing for these people.

I glanced nervously at the guards on either end of the stage, wondering if they were equipped for the task of holding off people. Izzy took the opportunity to end my thought process by starting off our setlist immediately.

"_Gotcha with the cocaine  
They found with your gun,  
No smooth face lawyer  
Could get ya undone,  
Say love ain't the same  
On the south side of town,  
You could look,  
But you ain't gonna find it around.  
It's the same old story,  
Same old song and dance, my friend.  
Its the same old story,  
Same old story,  
Same old song and dance_," he sang. Luckily, the prisoners seemed satisfied with the song choice, since they began to cheer and whistle like any other audience. As we played on, I could feel my anxiety cooling down a little bit. For criminals, they didn't make a bad group of listeners, and I was soon enjoying myself the way I always did. However, things never went quite as planned in performances, and this was no exception. We were ready to get off the stage and off the island in general when a loud chant began. At first, I didn't understand the word, though it sounded strangely like 'nori.' Then, a swinging cage was lowered from the highest floor. As it landed next to us with a clang, the bars opened and a Japanese girl came out to stand next to me. She was dressed in a black and green dress with weird pictures across it, slinging a guitar across her chest, and her hair...it was big, poofy, and green. She gave me a cheerful smile before gesturing out at the audience.

"Nice to meet you! You're Michelle, right? My name's Midori. How about you and I battle for these guys?" she offered. The prisoners whooped as I agreed with a confident air that surprised even myself. My last battle had been awful, but I had learned something from it. Despite the friendliness of the girl, I would use Judy Nails' tricks. As we began playing in sync, I quickly found Midori's weak point- she focused on the neck of the guitar with both her eyes and arms, leaving the rest open for attacks. I swiftly reached out and pulled one of the strings with all my might, grinning when I heard it snap.

"Oh?" Midori squeaked, trying to keep playing despite it. Glaring at me, she lashed out, slamming my whammy bar in the process. I was prepared enough to move the whammy bar away, dart around her, and kick her amp, knocking it over after it shook for a moment. Midori gasped, realizing the meaning as the cheers grew louder.

"Song's over, fellas. Match goes to Michelle," a guard announced unenthusiastically. I grinned at my bandmates, who had been waiting for me at the side of the stage along with three men that I assumed were Midori's bandmates. Lars was shouting something and laughing, obviously excited about my first win. Izzy grinned back at me, and even Axel looked remotely pleased.

As we finally got offstage and outside, finding a small airplane waiting for us, I felt something soft brush against my cheek. I turned to find myself facing a tuft of Midori's hair.

"That was some very nice work out there, Michelle," Midori said as the others climbed into the plane. Behind her, another plane had landed, and her bandmates were waiting impatiently. For someone who had just lost a guitar battle, the guitarist looked pretty cheerful. "Yes, you're pretty good at what you do. And your bandmates, too! The stony-faced man, the giant and the playboy!" she said with a giggle.

"They're not so bad," I explained fondly. "You've just got to approach them the right way." Apparently, Midori took my statement out of context, as she lowered her eyelids slyly.

"I see," she said simply, winking and nudging me with her elbow.

"Not like that, Midori," I said, blushing slightly. Midori took note, and her smirk widened.

"You're cute," she said matter-of-factly. "You seem a little shy, but I like you anyway. Listen, if you even need anything, feel free to find a way to call me." She reached into her tiny, cartoon-style backpack and produced a sheet of paper with a scrawled number on it. As she headed for her plane, her hair bobbing, she called back once more. "I wrote a book, you know! Make sure to buy it!"

Giving her the thumbs-up, I headed into the plane, shoving the paper into my pocket and preparing for take-off. Despite the shameless self-advertising, she seemed like a good person, if not a little weird.

"So, you met the famous Midori today. She's something else, isn't she?" Izzy said, clutching the seat as the plane lifted into the sky. "She's hot, though. Maybe I should ask her out," he continued with a serious nod. I snorted.

"Can you just take me home once we land?"

My good mood from the concert and my new friend came to an abrupt end when I walked into my house and found myself face-to-face with my mother.

"Where _were _you?" she screamed, causing me to jump. Considering I had told her, I hadn't expected her to lose her cool.

"Mom? I said I'd be performing with the band tonight."

"Yes, but on _Shanker's Island? _That's completely irresponsible! What if you had been attacked?"

"I-I'm sorry...and the others were really good about making sure that-"

"That's not the point! You can't fully trust them yet, can you?" I went silent, knowing that she had a point, and my mom softened. That's when I got the feeling that something else entirely was wrong. "I'm divorcing your father, Michelle," she said, proving my point. "Ben, Anna and Eric don't know yet. He's not taking it well, though. So I need you to stay home more often, in case I need help.

_What does she mean by that...?_

"Help?"

"Promise me you'll try to stay home more often," she repeated.

"I...okay, I will." I didn't know what she meant, but I had a feeling I would need to follow her instructions. As I walked up to my room, I looked in on three sleeping kid siblings.

_Maybe I _should _stay around...but..._

_Author's Note: Aw, dude. I forgot the copyright last time. Lyrics to 'Same Old Song and Dance' belong to Aerosmith, not me. I'm not taking credit for them._


	9. Not Quite An Adult

Despite how awesome our practice was that week, I couldn't help but feel uneasy. I wasn't sure what was causing it- the aftershock of my mother's words, the possible stress of concerts finally catching up to me, but it was _something_, without a doubt. Either way, it was three hours before Izzy decided we were good enough to stop practicing and vanished into the basement. As Axel and Lars went off to get some drinks and I put my guitar back in its case, I heard the phone ring distantly. I paused, noticing that no one else was about to answer, before beginning to tear the room apart in search of it.

"Dammit..." I grumbled, pulling the couch cushions onto the floor. At last I found the phone wedged between the springs, for some unknown reason. "Hello?"

"Is this Michelle Sandliey, guitarist for Shell Plate?" a woman asked in a businesslike tone.

"Um...yeah. Who's this?"

"Oh, thank God! I've been trying to track you guys down for weeks now! It's taken ages to find a personal number, after all...I'm Janet, from Weather Productions.

_Oh, right. _I had heard of Weather Productions before, considering their number of big-name record deals. "Hello. What's going on?" I asked, trying to sound professional in order to hide my anticipation.

"_What's going on? Really? Well, besides the fact that I want to offer you a deal, not much!" Janet said with a laugh._

"Really?"

"You don't seem to get the whole concept too much, Michelle. Is Izzy Sparks with you?" I immediately ran down the stairs, clutching the phone in both hands.

"Izzy! Some woman from Weather Productions wants to talk to you!" I announced as I arrived. Izzy sat up from the couch, looking sleepily over at me.

"Hm? Oh..." he murmured, taking the phone and beginning his own conversation. I watched as his expression slowly changed from exhaustion to alertness, and then to happiness. At last, Izzy hung up, tossed the phone aside and stood to swat me playfully on the head. "Well. Looks like we're on our way to a record deal." Despite the previous implications, I still couldn't help but be amazed.

"For real? We are?"

"Go spread the word, kiddo," he said, gesturing at the stairs.

In a moment, I was in the kitchen, telling Lars and Axel about Janet's call.

"We have been receiving a potential record deal?" Lars echoed. From the counter, Axel narrowed his eyes.

"...We aren't selling out, are we?" he asked, looking disgusted at the very thought.

"Axel, you wouldn't let us sell out without a load of complaining first. Don't worry about it," I said, unusually cheerful towards the bassist. Axel smirked.

"Glad you know _that _much. Where's Izzy?"

As it turned out, Izzy had made a deal with Janet over the phone that day. We would go perform a concert for her and her colleagues in New York City, and she would tell us if we were worth signing.

"We don't have time to waste," he had said. "Get here tomorrow by eight A.M, and bring whatever you need for a few days in the city, got it?"

I pretty much hightailed it back home that night to get to work on packing a lightweight duffel bag.

_Let's see here...I'll need something for the performance itself, and there might be an after-party, so I'll bring a dress. I'll need pajamas, too, but anything comfortable will work, and then-_

"Mime, what are you doing?" Anna asked from behind me. I sighed, shoving a pair of jeans into the bag before turning around. I had hoped that I wouldn't need to explain this.

"I'm packing for a trip. I'm going somewhere with my band," I explained hopefully. Unfortunately, Anna gave me a questioning look.

"But didn't Mom say she needed you to stay around?"

I cringed. To tell the truth, I knew she was right. If my mom was worried about anything my father would do, chances were that there was a bit of a risk. But I just smiled halfheartedly at my little sister.

"Come on. If anything happens, you can handle it, can't you?" I teased. Anna didn't take this in stride, though, and gave me a withering look.

"Just...please, come back soon, Mimi," she whimpered, turning away and sneaking down the hall again. My heart plummeted, and part of me wanted to go back and apologize. But I had to figure something else out- how I would escape the house unnoticed.

I ended up taking an easy, cowardly way out, by leaving a note. I couldn't find any other option, and I was slowly getting desperate. That night, I tossed the duffel bag out through my window and followed it, making sure the paper was in plain sight on my bed and that the window was closed behind me. As I began the walk to the band's house, I prepared my reasoning for when the door was answered. Luckily, Izzy was the one who actually found me standing outside at two in the morning. He looked equally confused, tired, and completely pissed off.

"What the hell, Michelle?" he groaned. I bit my lip, trying to hide any hint of emotion.

"I'm sorry...it's just, I couldn't let my mom find out..." I knew how desperate I sounded, and it honestly hurt a little. Izzy opened the door wider, closing his eyes.

"Just crash on the couch or something, okay?"


	10. Teach Me To Dance

I woke up to find myself sprawled across a seat in the band's van, my guitar and back sitting on the floor and Izzy snoring at my feet. In front of me, I could see the back of Axel's head at the steering wheel, and Lars in the second row. Yawning, I crawled forward to poke the drummer in the back.

"Hey, where are we?"

"Oh, Michelle," he said, turning to face me. "I see you have woken up. We had to be getting going, so we carried you out to this van...well, I was doing most of the carrying. Izzy was bringing your things, and Axel merely yelled." I nodded, looking over at where the blond slept. Lars followed my gaze. "Oh, Izzy was insisting on keeping you company. He said something about his feeling bad about telling you off." I looked on, feeling a hint of admiration for that fact.

"Hm." It was best to cover up said admiration, I decided. "Well, are we almost in New York?"

"We are already here. The city itself is becoming close."

As I stretched, Izzy himself stirred, sitting up and looking around blearily.

"Ah...'bout time you woke up. Listen, I was on the phone with Janet earlier, and we're performing tomorrow night. Tonight, though, there's gonna be a huge, invite-all party. Be ready, kid, because you haven't been to a party with me yet," he said, grinning. I rolled my eyes, my nonchalant smile returning.

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

Despite that, I wasn't ready at all. People knew the party was invite-all, and they took advantage of it. Through the blaring music, I could make out various remarks.

"Michelle! Have something to drink!" a man offered, shoving a cup in my hand.

"Hey, you aren't twenty-one. Get out," a bouncer said coldly, escorting a protesting younger girl from the room.

"This is _awesome_!" someone shouted from within the crowd. All around me, people were shouting, cheering, dancing and bumping me around the floor. I had already accepted a few drinks, and my head was spinning. Everything was so loud, so wild, and I felt a little bit sick. I managed to avoid any more alcohol by forcing my way out of the crowd and into the main hotel.

_How the hell do people have fun getting drunk? _I wondered bitterly, finding the elevator that took me back to our room. True, I felt a little looser, but the whole point of that was killed by the resulting headache. I ended up seated on the cold floor of the room's balcony, looking out at the bright lights and speeding cars below. Watching everything go by calmed me down, and I looked on with lowered eyelids.

"Pretty," I mumbled to myself, before retreating into the room and falling back on one of the beds. I couldn't help but wonder what my mother had done upon finding out where I had gone, and the guilt returned. One thing was for sure, it didn't do anything to help my headache.

"Oh, here you are. I was starting to think some random had taken you away." I hadn't realized that Izzy had come up to the room as well until he spoke, and it caused me to bolt upright with a shout. Once I had recovered, I grinned over at him.

"What, no drunken escapades tonight? The tabloids are begging for it," I joked.

"Nah, people are leaving. Or starting to get kicked out, I'm not too sure. Axel's taking care of the drunken escapades, anyway." Izzy took a seat on the bed beside me. "So, your mom doesn't want you here, huh?"

"Probably not. I never asked, but...she doesn't exactly trust you guys with me, I guess," I admitted, laughing hesitantly.

"So, you left," Izzy continued. "Huh. I hate to parent you, but that doesn't seem like the best of ideas. I mean, I would've done the same thing, of course, but I'm not exactly the role model of the world...or the smartest of guys," he explained. I sighed, leaning back against the headboard. Something in my mood was changing, though I wasn't sure what, and I knew it was a result of the alcohol. I still had a hint of seriousness, which I used to explain myself.

"I know. I probably shouldn't have, either. She thinks I'm stupid with trust, and I guess she's kinda right, but I want her to realize, somehow...I'm in this band. It's part of me, now."

"Yeah. It's not like she'll hate you for it, Michelle...she's your mom, right? Can't blame her for not trusting me," he said with an offhand grin. I suddenly became aware of my eyes slowly widening as he went on. "But...what matters is whether or not _you _trust me...and?"

Before I could stop myself, I let that slowly changing mood take over. I pushed myself up with the heels of my hands until I was at a good enough angle, and kissed him. We stayed there for a moment, seemingly trapped like that. When I pulled away, he looked completely startled.

"Like I said," I murmured, "I'm stupid with trust." Izzy blinked, watching me as drunkenness took over and I slid back onto my pillow.

"I...I have no idea how drunk you actually got, do I?" he mumbled, rubbing my head. "Get some sleep."


	11. Less Than Expected

"Why...why is everything so bright?" I groaned, burying my face in the pillow to block out the sunlight. In a moment, I felt the bed move as who I assumed was Lars sat down.

"You are having a hangover from all your drinking," he said. "It is unimportant. You will be feeling better by tonight, and we will be having our performance as planned."

For some reason, I doubted it. My head was spinning violently, and even the slightest movement on my part hurt.

"You didn't even have that much, kid. D'you have a weak stomach or something?" I heard Axel grumble from the bathroom. As Lars stood and went to argue, saying something about my age, I pulled the blankets tighter around my shoulders. Again, I wondered how people had fun getting drunk.

"Want me to get you something?" Izzy asked from a closer range. "I hear Gatorade's pretty good for a hangover. Or juice...how about it?"

"G...Gatorade, I guess," I mumbled.

"Damn. If I had known you'd take it so badly, I never would've let you drink. You really need to feel better, too."

"You sound like a parent," I teased weakly. Izzy pulled the blanket off of me, exposing me to the headache-inducing light.

"_You _sound like a kid. I'll be back." As the door closed with an audible click, I narrowed my eyes. The fact that I had been drunk didn't mean I hadn't remembered what happened, and from the way he acted, it was like it hadn't existed. Maybe it didn't matter to him, or maybe he was writing it off as a drunken escapade. Whatever it was, it threw me off. Meanwhile, snippets of Axel and Lars' argument drifted over to me.

"...but what if she doesn't? Everything's gonna be ruined!"

"You are worrying too much! She will be feeling decent by tonight..."

I forced myself to sit up and fight back the wave of nausea when I did so. I had to start somewhere.

Lars was right, fortunately. That night, I was feeling better, though I did feel slightly lightheaded at times. The four of us stood backstage, talking to Janet and her co-workers. Through a thin curtain, I could see people lining in, getting ready for the show...waiting for _us. _Janet was a short woman, probably in her early thirties, with a dark bun and a minidress. She couldn't take her eyes off of Axel, for some reason, and he looked away uncomfortably the whole time.

"Welcome! We have changing rooms set up for the four of you if you want to relax a little. The show isn't for another two hours, so just chill out for a while, okay? I'm looking forward to the performance," she finished with a wink. Lars immediately snuck off in search of his room, and I followed shortly after. After wandering aimlessly for a few minutes, I came across a door with my name on it, causing me to become starstruck. Seeing my name on a nameplate gave me some sort of unwarranted self-importance. I let myself in and admired the scene, impressed. They had left me plenty of various pampering materials, even a pair of lounge pants and a tank top. With a satisfied grin, I dressed in the lounge outfit and fell back on the couch to relax. If they wanted me to, who was I to argue?

I slept for about forty-five minutes before I woke up, startled as I realized how much time had passed. Staggering to my feet, I headed for the mirror, trying to change while fixing my hair simultaneously. My cell phone suddenly rang from the counter, distracting me for a split second. I froze when I saw the caller I.D., revealing that somebody was calling from my home. With a resigned sigh, I picked up the phone, preparing myself for a round of shouting. However, when I pressed the tiny green button, I wasn't greeted by screaming, but by a timid voice.

"M-Mimi?"

"...Ben?"

"Where are you?"

"I...I'm in New York, baby. What's happening?"

"You've _got _to come home, Mimi!" My heart race quickened. Ben hated when I called him baby- no, he despised it more than _anything. _If he wasn't reacting...

"Ben, what's going on?"

"Um...well, we were eating dinner, and we saw Dad's car come up the driveway, and he got out, looking real mad, so Mom told us to go up to her room and lock the door, and she gave us her cell phone and told us to use it if we thought something was wrong, so I called you."

It was exactly as I had feared. My mom was worried that my dad had taken the divorce badly enough to actually come after us, and she wanted me to stay in case I needed to protect my kid siblings...meaning...

_Oh, my God. I'm so selfish._

"Ben," I said in the calmest voice I could muster. "The door's locked, right?"

"Yeah."

"Good. _Don't _unlock it until you hear me or Mom, unless there's a fire. Is the fire alarm going off?"

"No."

"Okay. When I hang up, call the police right away, understand? Tell them your name, our address, and that you think there's an attack, and do as they say. Hurry, okay? I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Mimi, please come home."

"I'm on my way, I promise. I love you guys," I replied. The moment I heard Ben hang up, I grabbed a square of paper, scribbled my address on it, and took off. Completely forgetting the fact that I was dressed merely in a sports bra and lounge pants, I ran through the halls and into the front of the building. I was almost through the door when a hand clamped around my wrist, stopping me dead in my tracks.

"What the hell are you doing?" Izzy shouted, pulling me back. "Our concert's in twenty minutes!"

"Izzy, let go!" I snapped. "There's an emergency at home! I've gotta go back!"

"But..." My panic was momentarily replaced with complete shock. Was he seriously suggesting I go do the show, knowing my _family _was in trouble? Was that the way of a serious band?

"...Screw you," I whispered sharply, tearing my arm from his grasp and racing through the door. The moment I managed to flag down a taxi, I flung myself inside and shoved the paper at the driver. "Please, take me there, now!" The driver was incredulous, both at my outfit and my request.

"Miss, this is two hours away-"

"I know! It's just urgent that I get there as soon as I can! Please, take me there!" I wailed. The driver sighed, confused.

"...I expect to be paid, either way," he said, pulling the taxi out of its parking spot.


	12. Where's My Second Chance?

The moment the taxi pulled onto my street, anticipation took over. I flung myself out of the door, my heart pounding in my ears, and ran the rest of the way. The first thing I saw was a small crowd gathered on my front lawn. They were looking at my open front door with a mixture of expressions. The second was the ambulance, its flashing lights filling the area with red and blue. The third was my father, being forced down the front path by a solemn policeman.

"Hey, Michelle," he said, smiling as if nothing had happened. "You're here just in time!"

"What did you do to her?" I asked, trembling.

"Oh, nothing." He paused, smiling slightly. "Nothing important, anyway." I ran past him, forcing my way through the door and up to my mother's bedroom. Sure enough, the door was still locked.

"Anna! Ben! Eric!" I shouted, pounding on the door. It opened quickly, and I was knocked over by my hysterical, tearful siblings. "Thank God," I whispered, huddling together with them. It was only broken when someone touched my shoulder, and I looked up to find a paramedic leaning over us.

"Are you Ms. Sandliey's daughter?"

"Yes, I'm Michelle. Where's..."

"Your mom's in the ambulance already. She wasn't hurt too badly, but we're going to examine her. Would you like to come with us?" he asked. I nodded quickly.

"Please. I'm going to need to talk to her, when she's ready."

The four of us stayed in the waiting room, watching a late-night kids' show on the old television. Ben was almost asleep, leaving Eric and Anna to laugh softly at the lame jokes. I didn't see too much, despite my eyes focusing on the screen. I was silently going through what I would say to my mom when they let me talk to her, as well as what I'd do about the band. Part of me had already made the decision in that situation, but I still had to consider each option. The door to the right opened, and a doctor came in to inform me that she was free to talk to.

"Hi, sweetie," my mom said tiredly when I walked in. That in itself was enough to make me break down completely.

"I...I'm so sorry, M-mom," I sobbed. "I left you all behind..." My mom sat up carefully and pulled me to her, letting me bawl like a two-year-old. Not a single word had to be exchanged.

After I calmed down and dried my eyes, and my mom fell asleep, I went back out to check on my siblings. I found myself facing a confused Eric sitting on Lars' lap, while Anna and Ben looked on.

"Oh, he is such an adorable child!" Lars said cheerfully.

"Sis, this guy says he knows you. Who is he?" Eric asked.

For a moment, I stood with a slack jaw, bemused at Lars' other side though I knew I preferred the tougher one. Then, it hit me- Lars was _there_.

"Uh...Lars, why are you here?" I asked. Lars placed Eric on the seat beside him and stood.

"Well, our concert was ending, and we were needing to know what had been happening," he said.

"Yeah, how's your mom?" Axel asked from the corner.

"She'll be fine." I paused, wondering where Izzy had ended up after all of this.

"Izzy went home," Axel said, as if reading my mind. He suddenly looked defensive. "Listen, don't take it the wrong way. He didn't know what to say." I sighed. He wasn't the only one.

"I can't do this today. I'll come talk to you guys in the morning," I said.

"Yes, we are having your things there, as well. Your bag and your guitar," Lars said. Axel nodded in agreement, walking out without another word. My throat tightened as they left, mainly because I knew what I had do do.

_I'm not going to cry._

I hadn't delayed in telling them what I needed to say. I was quick, and to the point. I told them I was leaving the band. After the longest moment of silence, Axel spoke.

"...What? Why's that, kid?"

"It's a matter of principle, I guess. I was almost stopped from going to help my family, because we had a concert. I can't be committed to something that will mess up my priorities. So, I'm sorry," I said, forcing the quaver out of my voice by acting as cold as I could.

_I'm not going to cry. _

"Are you sure you are going to be doing this, Michelle?" Lars asked.

"Yeah. It was fun while it lasted, so...thank you," I said. Despite the obvious cliché I was using, it was all I could say. Axel handed my bag and guitar case to me.

"Hm. Well, have a good one, then. Good run, Michelle." He looked over at the basement, and I wondered if Izzy was listening in, too. "Want me to go get him up here?" he asked.

"Nah. Just tell him I said good luck, and bye," I replied. I had already promised myself I wasn't going to cry, and seeing him would probably ruin that.

"If you ever want to be talking to us, we will still be here. You are knowing the address," Lars added. I nodded, turned, and opened the door. In a way, it was right where we started. Me, standing in the doorway with my guitar with a negative emotion running rampant. Lars and Axel, facing me as if they didn't know me. Izzy, hiding away from everyone in his basement. "Goodbye," I said, stepping out and letting the door close behind me. Once I was a safe distance away from the house, I let the tears spill out, though I didn't stop walking.

_It's for the best, so why the hell does it hurt?_


	13. Epilogue

Summer days are always the best for lounging around. These kinds of days were my favorite- the kind that gave everything a lazy mood, and giving my an excuse to stay on my bed with the window open, my only company a book and some music. Outside, I could hear my siblings having a water balloon fight, and my mom relaxing and chatting on the phone. They were enjoying the summer the way they always did, and it felt normal for once. From the edge of my bed, the phone buzzed and rang loudly. I grinned when I saw the caller I.D., and answered without an issue.

"Hey, Midori!" I had held her to her promise of being around to talk, and we ended up catching up a lot, especially after I left the music business and my personal life wasn't on display anymore.

"What's up, Michelle? Enjoying the weather? I hear it's nice out today. Not that I would know...I'm in the airport, after all. It's my brother's birthday, so I'm going back to Japan to surprise him...poor kid," she joked. I let her complain about how boring airports were until she trailed off. "Hm? Hey, go to channel ninety-seven." I obediently grabbed my remote and flipped through until I ended up at some entertainment channel.

"_After guitarist Michelle left Shell Plate, we were convinced they were done for, but apparently Judy Nails is joining up with them for a second time! Not only that, it's rumored that she's back together with lead singer Izzy Sparks! What a twist!_" a spokeswoman shouted from the screen. I rolled my eyes and shut the screen back off. What a twist, indeed.

"Maybe they'll have a concert or something," I said. "We could go see them together, if you want," I said, my unaffected tone genuine for once.

"Wait, really?" Midori said nervously.

"Sure! It'll be fun, don't you think?"

"Well...um, okay. Yeah, sounds cool! Oh, my flight! Better run, kid. Talk to you when I'm back!" she chirped.

"Okay, then. Bye, Midori." As I hung up, I figured out that I meant it. They got a new guitarist so that they'd be successful. That's how it goes in the world- you get by the way you can. So why not see them? It would make for a fun time with a friend of mine. As I closed my book and focused on the music, my thoughts turned to them.

They had changed my life, no matter how it turned out in the end. Now I was back the way I started, a bored seventeen-year-old spending the summer with books and preparations for her senior year. But that wasn't quite it anymore. I had joined and left a band, had her father jailed and her mother attacked, and had run through New York half-dressed in a blind panic. I had gotten drunk, kissed a rockstar, gotten to know the people that my classmates would be talking about. And I was a guitarist, even without a band to go with me. But now, I was just someone listening to her music echo through the room.

"_Whoa, sweet child of mine...whoa, sweet love of mine._"

_Author's Note: Wow. Rewriting that took a lot less time than I thought it would. I rather like improving my work...maybe I'll do it again sometime. I was considering going to everything I wrote before Roommate Situations and rewriting it all, but I still have to finish the other three. So...welcome back, if you read the first version, and I hope you liked whatever version it was you read. XD See you next time!_


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